Havoc's Friday Evening
by Croup
Summary: Finding himself called into Mustang's office, Havoc is lectured on some discipline problems. But what the hell--the punishment is a spanking? UPDATE: Mustang isn't the only one blistering Havoc's tail.
1. Chapter 1

Finding himself dateless on a Friday evening was, unfortunately, something Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc had grown used to in his time as a military man. Especially since serving under Colonel Roy Mustang. The superior officer seemed to take an almost sadistic pleasure in ruining Havoc's chances with as many girls as possible, as often as possible. Having to cancel his most recent date due to a long meeting in Roy's office going overtime was, unfortunately, par for the course in Havoc's cursed, dateless life.

Havoc chewed his cigarette as Roy paced back and forth, berating him and the rest of the office guys. Apparently, there'd been a lack of discipline recently, and Roy wanted to quell the problem immediately. Probably wouldn't get his blasted promotions otherwise.

Havoc only payed half-attention as Roy seemed to go on and on, and thought instead about the latest girl he'd tried to get with--a pretty thing who helped out at the local cafe. If he'd known that this meeting would only involve Colonel Mustang lecturing them for an hour on proper work efficiency, he might've blown it off and went out with her. But, with his luck, the Colonel would show up at the expensive restaurant Havoc would book especially for the occasion, and proceed to drag him back to headquarters by force. And likely just as he'd be about to score, too . . .

"Second Lieutenant Havoc, please stay after. I have some disciplinary problems I'd like to handle with you personally," Roy told him, gathering papers on his desk.

Havoc started. Apparently while he'd been daydreaming, the meeting had ended. Feury and a grumbling Breda filed out past him. They were followed by Falman who muttered something about how if their commanding officer was less of a bum then maybe the whole of the group's efficiency would rise accordingly. Havoc was left alone in the office with the Colonel. Geez, what'd he do now?

"You, uh, had something you wanted to say to me, sir?" Havoc asked the man uneasily. What was this about? Had the Colonel found out that he'd smuggled porn into work? But he only looked at those in the bathroom! Well, and at his desk sometimes-- but only on really slow days. Havoc swallowed slightly, recalling various infractions he'd made in his time as one of Roy Mustang's subordinates.

"Yes, Second Lieutenant," Roy said, giving him an odd look. It was sort of a smile, or maybe more a leer. Havoc could never tell around the Colonel. "Lately you've been one of the worst offenders when it comes to efficiency. You've been coming in late more and more often in the mornings, often with hangovers." Havoc winced. That much was true.

"--Have been wasting time on personal phone calls." Havoc gulped. Damn, he knew Fuery had been wrong when he'd said that Roy couldn't access the phone records!

"--You leave ashes and cigarette butts everywhere." Havoc sighed. That was a common complaint.

"--Your uniform is routinely rumpled, and occasionally you choose not to wear proper work attire at all," Roy finished, a tad smugly. He was referring to the time when Havoc had arrived at headquarters comically missing his pants. Long story. Havoc seethed. He was going to get back at Second Lieutenant Breda for that!

Havoc gathered himself up. "Sir, I--"

"As your commanding officer, I have several options for correctional action I may take," Roy continued, interrupting the man. "Now, I believe for the rest of the men, that little speech I just gave will be sufficient to keep them on the right track. You, however, tend to learn more from actions than words, and so I've decided to do something with you that's a little more . . . hands on. Get to the seat of the problem, if you will." There was that Mustang Look again. Someday Havoc would figure out what it meant. As he spoke, Roy took his office chair from behind his desk and moved it out, lifting and carrying it to place it in the middle of the floor.

Havoc straightened, and looked curiously at the chair. " . . . Sir?" he asked.

Roy smirked at him. His voice, though, was stern as he said, "Second Lieutenant Havoc, I'm going to give you a good spanking."

Havoc's mouth fell open and his cigarette almost dropped out. "WHAT? Sir, I . . . you can't do that!"

"On the contrary, Second Lieutenant, I can." Roy rested his hand on the back of his chair, rubbing lightly over the polished oak. "Corporal punishment is a time honored tradition in the military, going back centuries. If anything, I'd be remiss in my duties if I didn't discipline you properly for your various misconducts."

"I . . . but . . . !" Havoc sputtered. Was Roy really serious? "Sir, c'mon . . . I haven't got spanked since I was a kid on the farm! I'm way too old! Stop kidding around . . . "

The look on Roy's face suddenly darkened. "If you prefer, Second Lieutenant, I'm sure I can think of a punishment more suitable for your age. Perhaps a stack of paperwork every Friday evening, followed by busywork throughout the day on Saturday?"

Havoc grimaced. Damnit . . . Colonel Mustang knew his weak spots too well. That arrogant, manipulative bastard of a colonel! "Ah, sir, c'mon. You know I . . . "

"You what, Second Lieutenant? I'm sure your dates wouldn't mind coming down to your desk every week for any romantic interludes you might have planned."

Havoc huffed. And then sighed. Roy had him whupped and he knew it. In this case, probably not even figuratively. " . . . I'll take it, sir," he said.

"Take what, Second Lieutenant?" Mustang asked him, smirking again. Jean seethed. The bastard was playing with him!

"I'll take the . . . the . . . spanking," He flushed just saying it. He was a grown man, for godsakes! Career military! But now he felt like a little kid again, about to get spanked by his pa for not doing his chores. He looked around the room. He had a bad feeling he knew why Roy had moved that chair now. "Er . . . how do you want me? Should I bend over the desk, or . . . ?"

"I was thinking over my lap," Roy said. He seated himself in the hardwood chair, and patted his knee in silent beckoning.

Havoc swallowed as he moved towards his commanding officer. Damnit, if this wasn't the most humiliating thing Colonel Mustang had made him do yet! His face flushed hot as he stood before the colonel, and inwardly fought between his urges to submit, or to slug the other man. But, in the end, he awkwardly placed himself over Roy's uniformed thighs. Somehow, his predicament was made even worse because he was placing _himself_ in the embarrassing position, willingly submitting and going over the lap like a naughty boy who had it coming. For a second, Havoc though he heard a noise coming from behind the office door--but then Roy was shifting him around, and his thoughts went elsewhere.

The Colonel adjusted him to his liking, pushing Havoc's body forward slightly over his lap and raising his knee slightly to lift Havoc's rear upwards. Havoc braced his hands on the hard floor in front of him. Behind him, his feet could almost touch the floorboards. His ass, Havoc realized, was quite well placed over Roy's lap. It had become the highest point on Havoc's body, and he could feel the fabric of his uniform trousers tightening slightly over his buttocks. In this position his ass probably looked very . . . well, spankable. Had Roy done this sort of thing before?

Havoc had always admired the way the uniform presented his backside. The cut of the blue military trousers always caused it to jut out perfectly, and the ladies loved a man's butt in uniform. Now, however, that good-looking rump was going to work against him. Roy pushed the hem of Havoc's jacket up his back slightly, clearing it from the target area, which now lay open to attack and temptingly vulnerable.

Roy smirked. He'd really have to thank Fuery for this later. Excellent information gathering on Havoc's behaviors. Giving the shy man a direct order to mislead Havoc about the phone records had been a stroke of genius on Roy's part, if he did say so himself. And now, Roy had his blond, strapping subordinate right where he wanted him.

He ran a gloved hand over Havoc's rump, smoothing the fabric over the man's rear and, while he was at it, taking stock of just how firm Havoc's backside really was underneath those snug trousers. Havoc started at the unfamiliar contact on his ass, jumping slightly. "Colonel!" he said in a scandalized voice.

"What?" Roy asked, bemused. "I'll be doing a lot worse than that shortly." And then, as if to prove his point, Roy raised a gloved hand and then snapped it down, falling hard on the seat of the lieutenant's rear. It landed with a loud WHAP!

Havoc yelped at the stinging spank, which was quickly followed by many more. He'd forgotten how much a spanking could hurt. And Roy definitely wasn't holding back any force. His backside rapidly started heating up, and it wasn't long before Havoc was grunting and squirming over the other man's knees. "Ahh--Colonel . . . ! Not so hard! Ouch . . . That hurts!"

Roy's answer was another volley of swats to the other man's rump. No area of Havoc's ass was left untouched, as the colonel beat the entirety of the backside-hugging seat of Havoc's military trousers. Roy enjoyed watching the way the muscles in Havoc's ass flexed and squirmed after each whack, as they tried in vain to evade the painful blows. The struggles were clearly visible in the tight fitting trousers.

"Ow--! Colonel, c'mooon . . . !" Havoc whined. He wriggled harder from the spanks, grinding his body down into Roy's lap. How the hell had he gone from having a hot date on a Friday night, to finding himself over his Colonels' knee getting spanked like a kid!? And in full military uniform, no less! "You can't do this! Oww, it's wrong . . . ! Grown man, damnit--! Argh . . . This isn't fair! Ooooh!"

Roy paused for a moment, his hand breaking off from delivering the painful punishment. After a long moment of careful consideration, he said, "You're right, Second Lieutenant. I am doing this wrong. These pants of yours are clearly getting in the way."

"W--wha . . . !?" Havoc said, before he felt Roy's hands working down underneath him at his zipper. With a practiced movement, Roy had Havoc's pants shucked down to his knees, where they were quickly followed by his regulation underwear. "H-hey!" Havoc said, feeling the draft of the office fan on his bare ass. Both of his round, toned buttocks sported a deep pink hue, in stark contrast to the healthy farmboy tan visible on his thighs and lower back. Roy soon got to work turning the color on Havoc's butt from pink to red.

On the other side of Roy's closed office door, the other three male officers of Mustang's command were gathered just outside. They listened closely as the sound of the hand spanking a clothed behind stopped, only to shortly resume as the sound of hand spanking bare flesh.

"But really, what's the Colonel thinking . . . ?" Falman whispered, keeping his voice low so as not to alert the two men inside to their presence, and also not to block out any sound of the bare-bottom spanking all three of them were listening to. "Corporal punishment in the military hasn't been used for at least fifty years--and even when it was it was, it was typically only done in the field under times of great duress . . . "

"Yeah, but I don't think Second Lieutenant Havoc knows that . . . " Fuery whispered back, adjusting his glasses to better see through the keyhole. "He's never had much interest in history . . . " the young man cocked his head. "You know, that's strange. Colonel Mustang asked me just the other day whether or not Mister Havoc had gotten good marks on that subject back in basic training . . . I wonder if there's a connection?"

From inside Roy's office, the three men could make out the sounds of protests rising once again from Havoc, saying that he was too old for this, and also that his "achin' butt" couldn't take any more. In response, they heard Mustang's stern voice replying that Havoc had it coming, and that if he didn't stop squirming then Mustang would use flame alchemy to _really_ burn his ass.

The three men outside were suddenly trying very conspicuously to adjust their trousers.

"Who cares!?" Breda exploded in a strangled whisper. He nudged Fuery. "More to the point, it's my turn to see. You're hogging all the fun." When Fuery moved aside with a pout, Breda hunkered his stocky frame down to the keyhole and looked through it himself.

It was a good thing Colonel Mustang had moved his chair to the center of the room. It gave anyone looking in through the keyhole a perfect view. He could clearly see Havoc's naked butt jerking and bouncing with each heavy spank the Colonel delivered, leaving a pale handprint for an instant before it filled in with red. Havoc was groaning and yelping with each spank, and twisting and turning his body across Mustang's lap in an attempt to delay the next smack. This was, of course, futile. It DID, however, give Breda several excellent views of Havoc's dimpled red ass cheeks, and also the guy's slightly engorged penis when he twisted the other way.

"Heheh, oh yeah. He's getting it good now!" Breda whispered with a grin, bringing a hand to rub at the bulge in his pants.

The other two gathered closer behind Breda to better hear the discipline session. The sound of clapping grew louder as Roy increased the force of his whacks, and Havoc started really hollering.

For all men involved, besides Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc, it was not a bad way at all to spend a Friday evening.


	2. Another Year, Another Spanking

_This chapter (and the one before it) were written for y!gallery's annual "Havoc Week" which would explain some of the fic's inner meta. ;]_

* * * * *

April 27th, the dreaded day.

The worst of the whole week, in Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc's opinion. Not only was it the one in the middle, making it 'Hump Day', but the activity that took place during it . . .

Yeah, it was even worse than the 24th, where he always got somehow stripped naked, or "lost" his uniform, or have it spontaneously catch fire (and he didn't believe a word of it when his Colonel said that one was "an accident"), or . . . somehow he'd appear in public with no clothing. Embarrassing, but at least surviveable.

Or the 29th, where he got molested in his sleep (he needed to set up bars on his bunk already, all these horny officers around). Well, if he kept his eyes closed and his breathing even, he could go on pretending it was just a particularly vivid wet-dream and so avoid any awkwardness the next day. Even the 30th where he'd open his closet door to find ONLY a skimpy bunny-girl outfit (complete with mini-skirt) inside, or worse, wasn't _too_ bad. After all, what man didn't love a good mini-skirt?

So yes, those days could be trying. But Second Lieutenant Havoc was a fun-loving guy. He could take it. And that didn't even count the days of the week that he LIKED. Such as the 26th, where always got a nice lunch (though once it was pumped full of aphrodisiacs). Or the 28th, where he invariably "got lucky" (though it always seemed to be with men . . . ) But back to the original point. _This_ day was the worst.

Because today was the day Second Lieutenant Havoc always got spanked.

Oh, sure, it doesn't sound so bad. A couple playful slaps, a few light smacks to the rear and it's all over, right? Wrong. The things always hurt like hell, and left his butt-cheeks sore and tender for days. And just try explaining why you've got a red butt in the showers to other guys the following morning. Yep, he got teased bad, and by now every man in the branch knew just what this day meant for poor Havoc and his poor backside. Hell, most of them had started placing bets on who'd be performing the deed this year.

The first time it'd happened, it'd been the Colonel himself. He'd been called into his office, stood at attention, gotten a little lecture, nothing too out of the ordinary. But then, BOOM. Hoisted over Roy Mustang's lap with his pants drooped around his ankles, like he was a little boy on the farm again getting hand-spanked by Pa. He'd yelled and hollered and struggled to get loose, but his superior officer had held him down good and really burned his ass--literally, since on the last hit the Colonel had activated his array to add some heat to the swat. It'd left Havoc a very sorry young man, and his butt literally smoking just like one of his cigarettes.

It'd been the most embarrassing thing that'd ever happened to him in his life. And no, he could NOT explain why he still got a boner every time he thought about it.

But then the following year it happened again! This time it was his buddy Breda, for teasing him about his weight of all things. Well, Havoc would never tease him again after Breda tossed him over a chubby knee, yanked his pants off, and blistered his bare ass with a small, hard paddle. Why Breda was so sensitive that day to something he usually smiled and joked about himself was a mystery, as was why he'd "just happened" to have a paddle on his person in the first place. Only in later years would a suspicious Havoc place the date of that spanking on the same day as the one he'd gotten from Mustang.

The next year, it happened yet again. Big surprise, right? Maes Hughes gave it to him good that time, with the non-explanation that in case his next child was a son, he'd need the practice of punishing an unruly boy. The man's wife wasn't even pregnant yet! But all of Havoc's protests fell on deaf ears, and by the end of that spanking his ass had resembled a pair of red, plump, well-toned cherries. When he was done, Hughes had insisted on showing the teary-eyed Second Lieutenant a collection of photos of his daughter. Havoc had agreed fervently that she was adorable, afraid he'd get whooped more if he said otherwise.

But the year after that had been the worst, and most bizarre, by far. By that time Havoc had figured out the significance of the week, and tried to lock himself in his room until it was over. But that morning he received a summons from the Fuhrer himself, and there was no way he could refuse that. So he'd nervously trooped himself up to Central Command. He was let through into Fuhrer Bradley's office immediately, and he'd stood before the man shaking in his boots, wondering what was so important that he, a mere enlisted man, would be called before the leader of the entire Amestris military.

Well, Havoc wished he could say it was a surprise when the Fuhrer merely crooked a finger at him, set him over his lap, bared his ass, and began a brisk spanking. He wished he could say that he even took it well, to impress the Fuhrer with his stoicness. But no, he squirmed from the get-go, yelping, twisting, and groaning from the sting. The Fuhrer spanked with an almost inhuman strength and precision, and it wasn't long before Lieutenant Havoc's toned, trim backside of which he was so proud was once again reduced to it's yearly state of hamburger meat.

No explanation given afterward. He'd simply been dismissed to return to his quarters, rubbing a throbbing rump. Havoc had collapsed on his bed that night, convinced that he was cursed. What evil diabolical power was setting it up so that he, year after year, got these humiliating spankings!?

Whatever it was, it was clearly too much for an ordinary man like himself to fight. That's why, this year, Havoc didn't even bother trying to avoid his fate. He went about his day as usual, trying not to think about it, but knowing it was coming. Who would get him this time? Fuery? Falman? _Black Hayate?_ Maybe even that twerpy Elric kid, Ed. Or his little brother Al. He could see himself across Alphonse's armored knee, the boy's metal palm clanging against his ass. And he bet that Edward could transmute some killer paddles if he wanted to . . . Havoc's butt twitched just thinking about the possibilities.

Thankfully, he didn't need to dwell on it past morning. It happened during his lunch break. There he'd sat in the the military cafeteria (grateful that he still could sit, at least for now), gulping down some almost-edible grub and bemoaning his fate, trying to ignore all the smirks and jibes of his fellow soldiers. But then who would come up behind him but Major Loius Armstrong, the "Strong Arm Alchemist". Havoc paid him no mind at first, but then started when a large hand fell on his shoulder.

"I've been told by a few of your peers that this day holds special significance for you, Second Lieutenant. Is that true?" asked the mustached man.

"Significance, huh? . . . Yeah, guess you could say that," Havoc replied grumpily around a bite of his sandwich.

The big man beamed. "Outstanding! I was afraid I'd missed the date. In that case, I have something I must give you."

Havoc blinked up at him in confusion. "Yeah?" he asked, "What's that?"

Without speaking another word, Armstrong unbuttoned the top two buttons of his uniform jacket. Whipping the garment off, he exposed his impressive upper body physique and quickly struck a pose to flex. Havoc found himself gaping at the man's gleaming, overly muscular chest. His bulging pecs and rippling abs--and at his strong, brawny arms. He had a good body himself, but it was nothing compared to the major's.

In a surprising move, Armstrong next picked Havoc up by his blue collar. "Apologies, Second Lieutenant! Had I known you were getting disciplined on a yearly basis, I would've done this much sooner!"

"Wh--what? Done what sooner?" Havoc asked. He was startled to see actual tears running down the emotional major's face as he replied.

"This!" Armstrong shifted his grip on the lesser-built man, and put a booted foot on the lunch table. Then, he casually draped Havoc over his outstretched knee, aligning him both so that his backside was prominently raised, and so that the rest of the men eating could get a good view of it.

"Uhh--woah! Wait!" Havoc tried to say, "I think you've got the wrong idea!"

"Nonsense!" Armstrong insisted as he yanked Havoc's pants down.

Right there in the crowded cafeteria.

"YEEOW!" Havoc didn't even have time to be embarrassed before several powerful blows exploded on his naked ass. He was immediately squirming and wriggling, trying to get away, but the big man kept him pinned easily, dispensing painful smacks to his backside as if he did it every day. They made quite a sight there, Armstrong with his naked upper body, Havoc with his naked lower body--and with his butt-cheeks quickly turning red.

"To think, all this time you'd been receiving sub-par discipline from other men instead of consulting with me immediately," Armstrong said, those passionate tears still pouring out as his muscles rippled in the course of his duty.

"Nooo! I don't wanna get my ass beat anymore!" Havoc moaned, twisting from side to side uselessly. He could feel his buttocks actually bouncing and jouncing from the force applied to them. The rest of the base guffawed and drank in the sight.

"And miss out on a true Armstrong spanking?" the big major said, "This punishment technique has been passed down in my family for generations!"

Havoc whimpered.


End file.
